


Hold Out Your Heart and Weep

by runsinthefamily



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, broken relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because flutiebear transcribed the most heartbreaking quest in DA2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Out Your Heart and Weep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flutiebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear/gifts).



“Anders.” Marion came into the bedroom, wiping her face with a damp towel. Bodahn always had one waiting for her when she got home. Swinging that sword was sweaty work.

Anders was sitting on the bed, his hands clasped together, head bowed. He looked so worn these days, so tired. Some day she was going to persuade him that his little demon had been a mistake and then she would fix him and everything would be perfect.

“Anders, what’s wrong?” she asked, kneeling down in front of him.

His brown eyes were bloodshot, his nose red.

“You’ve been crying,” she said and took his hands. “Tell me.” She smoothed his redblond hair out of his eyes.

“I didn’t want to believe,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “I knew that you sympathized with the Templars, but I didn’t think …”

She drew away, feeling the familiar hot wave of irritation and frustration rise up. “What is it now?” she asked. “Did I not shout at Cullen loudly enough? Did I yawn while you were reading your manifesto out loud?”

“You killed them,” he said and looked up at her, terrible grief and pain and rage in his face. “You killed Bancroft.”

She stood, crossing her arms. “He was consorting with blood mages. There were malificarum all over that hideout. And how do you know about it, anyway?”

“You don’t even deny it,” he said. “I almost wish you would lie to me, it would at least mean that you care what I think. How I feel.”

“You’re not even listening,” she said, her own voice rising. “Blood magic! Are you going to defend them? To me? After what happened to my mother?”

“Not every mage is Quentin!” he said.

“Not every mage can be saved!” She averted her head, trying to calm herself. “I have never killed any mage that did not attack me first, Anders.”

“What choice did you leave them?” he shouted and surged to his feet. “Kicking in their door, with Templars at your back … Maker’s Breath, Hawke, I might have been there. Would you have killed me too?”

There was a moment where she could not speak, could not breathe. “You …” she said, her voice strangled and small.

“Slaughtered me? As you slaughtered those mages? Mages who only wanted to live free. Do you expect me to stand by and allow it?” Blue sparked in his eyes, at his fingers. His voice rang out hollow and strange.

He took a step toward her and she whirled, seized her sword where it leaned by the door, and braced herself. _Silence and then Smite_ , she thought coldly, in the part of her that ruled during combat, while the rest of her screamed and wept and could only think, _no, no, not Anders, never Anders…_

They stood, frozen, staring at one another, and then Anders swayed, put one hand to his head, and let out a pained sound. The cracks faded, the weird pressure in the air eased, and he fell to his knees.

She dropped the sword, clattering, on the floor and went to him, falling down beside him, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had to, Anders, you weren’t there. You didn’t know them, not really. You couldn’t have seen … I had to.”

“I know,” he said.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t … don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

She ignored the emptiness of his tone, tilted his face up, kissed him. Desperately, with all the passion she could summon. He resisted for a moment, then gave in. A sound that might have been a sob was muffled between their lips.

Later, as they lay naked on the bed, Marian spooning Anders with one leg thrown across his waist, she asked him.

“You weren’t really going to attack me, were you? You wouldn’t let him do that.”

“Justice doesn’t want you dead,” said Anders quietly.

“Well that’s - reassuring.”

“Can you come by the clinic tomorrow sometime?” he asked. “I have something I need your help with.”

“Anything,” she said, snugging him in tighter. “You know that. I love you.”

There was a pause.

“I love you, too,” he said.


End file.
